Enter Clover Calico
by oddgoth
Summary: this is a collection of drabbles involving my OC Clover. Eventually this will have a romantic sister story with a higher rating but for now just some fun character interaction. WARNING new writer trying to improve
1. Chapter 1

author's note- hello beautiful people. so first off I don't own any thing to do with metalocalypse. Second this is my first story (well, that's not true, but its the first one ive put on this sight anyway) third English is not my first language so apologies for any grammar issues or weird paragraphs (althow feel free to point them out as it helps me learn). and lastly this is supposed to just be a quick intro to my OC Clover but I'll probably add more later. Sorry for long AN and remember reviews are love!

Clover Calico disembarked the plain with her trusty Gutz bumping agents her hip and looking more than ever like she had jumped from the pages of a coloring book. Typically, she tried to tone her bright wardrobe down to avoid giving her haus mates' headaches. (something Nathen thanked her for by not cussing her out every time she strolled into the main room.) But sometime during her 5 month long absence from dreary Mordland, she'd realized how much she'd missed her bright clothing and didn't really feel like parting with it just yet.

Her cloths themselves hadn't changed much, despite the long sleeved midriff being crimson instead of gray or black and her ripped bellbottoms being decidedly mid wash as opposed to dark. The red and white striped thy high socks she wore could be seen throw the rather large holes in the jeans, though her studded belt and Creepers retained their blackness. The lasses of said shoes where mismatched, the right being green and the left purple, but if she was being honest, she didn't think she _owned_ matching shoe strings anymore.

Some ware along the line she'd wound up with a light tan as well. This was something she was certainly _not_ happy about. She'd worked hard to achieve her 'I may or may not be a phantom' complexion. ' _Oh well'_ she thought _'nothing a few weeks cooped up in the studio won't fix._ '

Technically, her job title was Deathklock's resident artist. In theory her job entailed drafting album covers, designing posters and , occasionally, painting half nude portraits of band members whenever they went on a particularly strong ego trip.

In practice her dudes included all of this as well as being an almost constant babysitter for the man children of Deathklock. Not that she usually minded, if nothing else she was _never_ bored. But she had to admit that the last few months had done her good. She'd been on the verge of a nervous breakdown when Charles, in his infinite wisdom, had approached her about taking an extended vacation. At the time she'd been nervous about leaving the boys to their own devised but in the end she'd been too exhausted to turn down the offer.

And watdda ya know? Nobody had died. Well nobody she _knew_ anyway…. And that was good enough for her.

She brushed a few strands of vivid pink and purple hair out of the face as she made her way down the runway. She'd really have to cut it soon. She wasn't at all used to having it touch her shoulders, much less hang past them.

Meanwhile the members of Deathklok where noting other small changes. Nathen noised that Clover seemed to stand a bit taller, her ever confident strut looking almost like a catwalk model's sashay ,and gone wher the bruise colored circles around her eyes. That last could be a result of the last 5 months being some of the best sleep she'd gotten in years. That was the price one payed for having their rooms in the same hallway as Skwisgaar . Sound proofed walls her fat ass.

Toki for his Part had openly missed his best friend and, forgetting himself, decided to run at her like a linebacker and tackle her with a hug that could break bone. "hey, Tok- no. No no no no NOOOOOO! "Clover screamed as her idiot friend lifted her from the ground in a hug and proceeded to shake her like an overzealous puppy that'd just been reunited with his favorite chew toy. Clover gasped as she felt a painful crack along one of her ribs, some ware in the middle of Toki's rant on how much he'd missed getting his ass kicked in video games and how nobody else would ever play paint ball with him.

Pickles righty interpreted this to mean 'make him put me down before I black the fuck out.' "dood, Toki, yer gonna hurt her.' "piffff she ames fine!" Toki protested giving clover a little squeeze. At least he thought it was a little squeeze. "Rights clover?" He asked. Clover gave a squeak of pain and managed to huff "can't…breath" as the edges of her vision turned fuzzy. Toki was a sweetheart but he often forgot how much he out wade his diminutive purple haired friend.

It was Nathen who saved her with a chastising growl to Toki. "NO! Bad Toki! We don't strangle friends." He snapped, giving Toki a non to gentle smack upside his head, Causing him to drop clover altogether. "Ow! Sorry clover. I's just happy to sees you." Toki apologized rubbing his sore head. Clover, who had managed to land on her feet, gave him a smile and waved it off, while making a mental note to get an X-ray later.

"you look different." Murderface lisped glaring her up and down as if sizing her up. "Ja. I ams not likeings it." Skwisgaar added with a frown. He kinda missed his little porcelain doll. ' _The porcelain doll who would break my nose if I started using her little pet name out loud.'_ He reminded himself. Clover rolled her mismatched eyes as she strutted past them towards Mordhaus. "you dilldos are just gonna have to get uesta it. There's not a whole lot I can do about it now." She called over her shoulder. All she wanted to do was get to her rooms where she could take a nap and then catch up and any work she ahd missed during the last 5 months.


	2. Inspiration

AN- ok so I like this one more then the last. hope you guys do to!

Clover was getting _really_ freaking tried of Nathan and his perfectness ass. It was _always_ like this. Every time Deathklok released a new album he would wait until the last possible second to give her any hints as to what direction to head in artistically. Then he'd spend the next month breathing down her neck to finish the cover in time. She could hardly remember the last day she hadn't spent hunched over her desk drafting what seemed like hundreds of preliminary sketches. Each one was then glanced at by Nathan before being crumpled and tossed aside with a dismissive growl of 'Not brutal enough.'

Clover snorted to herself as she worked. " Yeah, that's real fucking specific. Thanks for the help. Asshole. " She mudded, crushing what had to be her hundredth paper coffee cup and chucking it over her shoulder to join it's brethren on the floor. "Ames you talkings to yourself agains?" Toki asked from his spot on clover's bed where he was reading a copy of some comic book.

The purple haired girl sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She may have had a soft spot for the Norwegian but his presence really wasn't helping her mood. " Maybe. Look don't you have guitarist things to be doing? Go do them." She snapped. Her tone was a bit harsher then intended but her friend attributed it to the stress and caffeine. Toki shrugged. "not really. Wes finished recordings the new tracks. So's we gots the day off." Clover groaned. 'what's a day off?' she thought to herself as she began to trace out a horde of zombie Vikings she hoped would appease Deathklok's fussy front man.

Toki frowned. He didn't like seeing clover stressed. Since she had become a resident of Mordhaus she had become like the big sibling he always wished he had growing up. Whenever he'd start feeling lonely or like he didn't belong he knew he could count on clover to cheer him up with a few snarky comments and a friendly punch in the shoulder. But now that he thought of it he realized he had no idea how to un-stress he's over caffeinated pal. What could work? Then he smiled. Time to use that thing that always works!

Toki put his comic aside and hoped off the bed. He made his way over to clover's desk, kicking coffee cups and energy drink cans out of his way. Hearing him approach throw the mess that was her bedroom/studio clover turned around in her chair. The moment she did her face was pressed into the fabric of Toki's shirt as he hauled her into a tight hug.

Clover Calico did not do hugs. The last time someone had tried was years ago. It was shortly after arriving at one of her many temporary foster homes. The woman had smiled bright and held out her arms, while little clover had just shaken her head and offered a quite 'I don't like to be touched.' Immediately the women dropped her arms and gave the girl a sympathetic, even pitying, look. She probably assumed the kid had been hurt in some way, the poor, damaged, dear. In reality there had been no rape, no beating or trauma of any kind.

Clover just hated being touched. If she had to go out on a limb she's guess it was something to do with not being held as a infant. Maybe all dumpster babies had physical contact issues. At the time she had made a note to ask them if she ever met another one.

She never did find out why things like hugs bothered her. And now as her good friend held her close she fought the urge to punch him in the jaw and tell him to go bother somebody else. Finally, after a few moments of trying to wait him out, Clover gave up. "Hey, Toki?" she asked, voice muffled by his shirt. "ja?" came the naïve Toki's response. "As much as I love the smell of your armpit, do ya think you could let go of my head now?" that was about as nice as clover could think to make it sound. "Do you feel better?' Toki asked hopefully, as he pulled back. "No. I feel like I've been put in a head lock for no reason. Hey since your up why don't you go get me more coffee. I'm running on fumes here, and I just got a new idea." And with that clover turned her chair back around and waited for a slightly sullen Toki to return with blessed caffeine. 'On the bright side' she thought as he left, 'my inspiration's back.'

By the time Toki made his way back to Clover's room with fresh coffee the punk was asleep at her desk, with a sketch of a fearsome leviathan squeezing several zombie Vikings into pulp with its tentacles, siting finished on her desk. Toki held the page up to the light to appreciate the details. If this wasn't brutal enough for Nathan, nothing would be! Toki squinted his eyes a bit. Was it just his imagination or did that sea creature have a fu manchu?


	3. Happy Birthday

It was an uncomfortably hot July twenty second, in the dumpster on the corner of Angel's street and Cloverfield Drive that a mangy calico cat discovered a tiny goo covered, dichromatic eyed baby. If it had been one of those loyal, human loving pets, the kind you read about in newspapers, it may have tried to find a human to help the infant or even tried to nurse her itself.

But it was not one of those human interest stories. It was a starving stray. And as anything half-starved will, it attempted to eat the child. With the little strength she had the newborn squirmed and wailed, startling a passing women who immediately called 911. The baby would be given the rather uncreative name Angela Cloverfeild Calico. A name which she would hate and shorten to Clover. From the dumpster she would head to social services where she was adopted twice and returned both times due to "personal reasons."

By the time she was Six years old Clover had given up any hope of being adopted for a third time. The next few years where a blur of halfway houses, temporary homes, pervy foster dads, and 'siblings' who would slit your throat to get your desert. Until one night in a particularly unpleasant foster hole, clover would meet an older girl by the name of Marcy Blue who would help shape the person Clover would become.

Even many years later Clover could close her eyes and remember the smell of mildew and hear the creaky house shift as the chilly day turned into a frigid night. There was a dull throb in the back of her head where "mumy dearest" had hit her earlier for breaking a dish. She was in the attic, curled up with her head tucked between her knees. Her eyes where burning, but she wouldn't cry. She Would Not Cry.

She was trying to focus on the sound of the rain on the roof or the study _'_ _drip drip drip'_ of the leaky celling when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Clover flinched away violently. "hey hey. Its ok it's just me." Her perceived attacker had said. Through the gloom of the attic Clover thought she recognized a red headed girl who she'd seen but hadn't spoken to much. She was holding out one hand as if to a frightened animal. The other was clutching a blanket. "it's gonna be ok." the girl said. She sounded so confident. Her jaw was set but her eyes where kind. When she held out her arms clover gave in and allowed the contact.

The girl, Marcy, wrapped the blanket around them both and held the younger girl as she sobbed silently. "it'll be ok. We won't be here forever. Hey I heard your gonna be nine years old tomorrow. how'bout if I make you a present?" Clover blinked in confusion. Marcy Explained how another care taker at another home had taught her how to sew stuffed animals and that she'd been stealing thread and fabric every now and then for months. "if you can be strong and stop crying I'll make you something. Ok?" It wasn't the best offer, but it had worked.

And less them a week later Clover was rewarded with a greenish blue 'doll' that looked more like something used in voodoo then something to comfort a crying child. "ya know what's even better?" Marcy had asked in a whisper, taking the doll and Unzipping it's mouth to show a bright red inside lining. "he opens! So when you run away from here, you can bring everything you'll need!" The red head said in an excited whisper.

That had made little clover Vary happy and she's slept better that night then she ever had in that house. A few days later she was being relocated. The "mumey dearest" had beat Marcy within an inch of her life when she found her red dress shredded and missing it's zipper. She got such a bad beating, in fact, that social services couldn't ignore it. After seeing the other children's living conditions they had all been shipped off to deferent homes.

It would be a long time before Clover finally got the nerves to run away from foster care. It was a warm summer night, two weeks before her Twelfth birthday. She filled the stuffed doll she had named Gutz with the $80 she had managed to save and steal over the last three years. Then added a few granola bars she'd snuck from the pantry. Lastly she added the pen knife she'd once picked from someone's pocket.

That was it. All she needed. Well…all she _had_. It would have to do. She pulled Gutz over her shoulder by the strap she'd added and headed toward the window. This foster home wasn't so bad, she admitted to herself. She had her own bed, though she shared a room with three other girls. But she's already been here for 8 months. She never stayed anywhere long and there was no telling what the next place would be like. She hated not knowing what was coming next. So, she figured, from now on _she'd_ decide what happened to her. This would be her birth day gift to herself.

With a quick wave to her sleeping 'sisters' Clover Calico turned her back and hoped out the window and into the summer night. She would not cry. She was almost Twelve years old now. Practically a grown women! She Would not cry over leaving a group of girls she didn't even like much. Or about how she didn't quite know where she was going. Or about how she wished more than anything she could go _home_. That she _Had_ a home.

Three states and Many hours later Clover got off a Greyhound with her mismatched eyes red and puffy and her freckly cheeks tear stained. She realized she was clutching Gutz to her chest and dropped the doll to hang by his strap. She was not a little child that needed to cuddle her stuffed toy for courage. Instead she reached into her hand-me-down jacket and griped the knife in her pocket, as she wove her way through the carnival crowed. The familiar shape calmed her nerves a bit. She knew where she was going now.

When she tracked down the owner of Truman and son's family owned carnival her speech was short and to the point. "hello sir. I don't have a sob story for you. But I really need some place to be. I learn fast and I'll work for food and a place to sleep. So. What do ya say?" she ended with a big hopeful grin.

Mr. Truman considered himself to be a reasonable man. Reason told him _someone_ would be looking for this child. The question was whether or not they should find her. He Knew from Twenty years of experience that there was only a hand full of reasons kids ran away from home. Usually the brats got it in their heads that mommy and daddy didn't love them enough. But a closer look at this kid and her rangy cloths, tangled hair, and the hint of ice in her mismatched eyes told him a different story. "All right. Your in."

All that felt like centuries ago. Clover Sighed as she hugged her patched and threadbare Gutz. "hey. Yous ok?" Toki asked from the other side of the couch. "hum? Oh yeah. Yeah, just… reminiscing." Clover answered with a smile. Toki wasn't sure he believed her, but today was a special day so he decided not to push it. "ok… by the way Happy birthday."


End file.
